


work your skin down to the bone

by willannanan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Keith is worried, Kinda, M/M, References to Depression, lance is doing not good, like at all, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:33:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29204403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willannanan/pseuds/willannanan
Summary: Lance knows he's overdoing it. He knows that. He knows that all of the extra training will catch up eventually, he just hopes he can improve first. He first figured he had a small problem when he was spending more time in the training room than Keith, the guy who practically lives there.So yeah, Lance knows it's an issue. But that doesn't mean he's going to stop.
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 110





	work your skin down to the bone

**Author's Note:**

> please be mindful of the tags! if you think this is something that will affect you then don't read it, keep yourself safe :)

Lance knows he's overdoing it. He knows that. He knows that all of the extra training will catch up eventually, he just hopes he can improve first. He first figured he had a small problem when he was spending more time in the training room than Keith, the guy who practically lives there.

So yeah, Lance knows it's an issue. But that doesn't mean he's going to stop.

He trains minute after minute, practicing until his eyesight wavers, everything hazy and wobbling in and out of focus from straining his eyes too hard. When he can hardly see to aim he switches to a sword, determined to get better and better and better until he's not a burden anymore.

Until the team doesn't have to worry about him.

Until he stops getting yelled at for getting in the way.

Until he stops being a problem.

So Lance trains. He trains until his muscles ache, and then he pushes past that until his body is practically screaming at him to stop. His arms are trembling, his legs shaking; everything hurts, his body littered with bruises from where the training bots have managed to hit him. It's only when he starts to sway in place that he stops for the night, barely managing to stumble into the shower. The hot water just makes everything worse, bringing the aching in his muscles up to the surface. He falls into bed, his body exhausted but his mind is still swirling.

He's weak. He knows it. He's known it for a while, actually. That doesn't make it any easier to come to grips with though.

He doesn't sleep, not really, not in any way that matters.

And when he wakes up he goes back to the training room. Again and again and again for weeks, the days blurring into aching muscles, bone-deep fatigue and the need to get better, to just improve.

///

Keith is worried. He's been keeping an eye on Lance since he noticed just how off he was acting. He still argues with the dark-haired boy but there's no bite to the words, no emotion behind them. But Keith grows especially worried when he makes a teasing comment one day, hoping for everything to go back to normal and for Lance to snap out of whatever funk he was in. But Lance doesn't even respond, just turns around and leaves the room.

It's strange. Lance is more toned now, for sure, his arms more sculpted and Keith can only imagine that the rest of him is the same. But his eyes, normally so bright, are empty. Hollow. The bags around them only emphasised by the dark circles, so dark that they look like Lance smudges blackened ash around them every day.

The clang of metal scraping against metal echoes through the hallway and Keith knows that it's Lance, that he's training _again_. Something in him snaps and he marches towards the training room, determined and angry for a reason he can't really explain.

He leans against the doorway for a second, just watching. Lance hasn't noticed him yet, probably won't for a while. Keith can admit the tanned boy has definitely gotten better at fighting, it's scarily impressive to watch him dodge and weave past the training bots. But Keith can also see the shaking in his arms and the way his steps falter sometimes as he tilts to the side, panic flashing in his otherwise dead eyes.

And Keith is angry.

But he knows that won't help.

Really he should get Shiro to talk to Lance, God only knows he'd be better at it. But something burns in his chest and he can't force himself to leave.

"Lance," he calls out from the doorway, his voice oddly quiet but somehow still managing to tear through the room.

"Lance, you should stop. It's getting late."

The tanned boy doesn't react, Keith's not even sure if he heard. He just continues fighting, the rhythmic sound of weapons clashing and shoes squeaking against the floor filling up the space again.

Keith has had enough.

"End training sequence."

Lance's eyes snap up at that, seeming to take in Keith's presence for the first time since he got there. He's panting, Keith notes, chest heaving in a way that must be uncomfortable, in a way that makes his own ribcage ache beneath his skin. The pit in his stomach that formed while he was watching the training session grows some more. Lance doesn't react further though, just stands there, bayard hanging limply in his hand, and Keith is livid.

He stalks over, grabbing Lance's arm. He makes sure to keep his grip firm but not harsh, he doesn't want to hurt Lance. As soon as he makes contact though, the blue paladin flinches violently, immediately tearing his arm out of Keith's grasp, eyes wide. He blinks, wondering why he can't see Keith properly.

Keith repeats the action, slower this time, not trusting the slight sway in Lance's stance. With his other hand he gently untangles the taller boys fingers from his bayard, deactivating it and dropping to the floor for the time being. Lance is more important.

"Come on, Lance," he mutters, voice soft, "that's enough. We need to leave, it's late."

Lance swallows thickly, the saliva in his mouth feeling more solid than it should. Keith watches him glance about the room as he continues to sway and the red paladin is suddenly very aware of how hot Lance's arm is under his hand and the strange paleness of his skin.

Fuck.

The hand that he had used to remove Lance's bayard reaches up of it's own accord, pressing against his forehead. He pulls it away almost immediately though, eyes shining with worry. Lance finds the expression on Keith's face vaguely amusing through the haze of his mind.

"Shit, Lance, you're burning up!" Keith's mind is a mess, should he take Lance to a pod or his room? Either way, they need to get out of the training room. "That's it, come on. We're leaving now." He winces at the harsh tone of his voice, not meaning to sound so angry but he's so worried and kind of scared and he doesn't know what to do. He goes to help Lance sit down at least but freezes when he hears him whimper.

"I c-can't-" Lance's eyes are squeezed shut in a way that should be painful as he tries to stop the world from spinning around him. "I- I think-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence as he tips forward, head landing on Keith's shoulder. Everything is spinning and bright and he can't focus, can't see-

"Lance? Lance buddy, I need you to talk to me. What's going on?"

The only thing that makes it past Lance's mouth is a pitiful groan as he trembles. Weak, weak, weak, weak, you're a problem, a problem, a _fucking problem,_ why are you so weak? Fucking weak, problem-

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Keith's voice is soft, softer than Lance has ever heard it before. "Just breathe with me for a sec, it's okay. I'm here, you're here, it's okay."

Keith, bless him, is trying so hard but it's not working. Lance's body shudders as he gasps for air, it's not getting into his lungs, he can't breathe, he's going to die right fucking here because he's too weak to breathe-

Lance is too hot, too unsteady, the world tipping from side to side. He can feel it swaying under his feet even though his eyes are closed. Keith is the only thing tethering him, the only thing keeping him conscious and upright and-

Oh.

Never mind.

Lance drops to the floor, vaguely aware of someone - Keith? - catching him. He's leaning against someone's chest and he knows they're talking to him, can feel the rumble against his skin, but he can't hear, everything's underwater, spinning and twisting and wrong.

"...ce? Can... -er me? Lance?" A voice calls from somewhere around him, the words lined with a panic that would normally worry Lance but he doesn't really register the words. He groans, closing his eyes even tighter and slumping further against the arms holding him. He can feel his consciousness starting to drift away like it has so many times before but this is different. He's not alone this time and whoever's with him will be worried and then Lance will be a problem yet again. He couldn't pass out, not now, _please_ not now.

The universe just loves to torture him though and Lance goes limp in Keith's arms, completely out of it.

"Shit." Keith is panicked, he doesn't know what to do. So he falls back on the only thing he knows. He'll get Lance to his room and then find Shiro. Shiro will know what to do.

With a breath, Keith steels his shoulders before lifting Lance up carefully and leaving the training room. The castle is quiet other than his steps. It's strange and haunting and only fuels Keith's anxiety more.

He wonders how Lance got to this point without anyone noticing. Keith is familiar - more familiar than he would like to admit - with the feeling of working himself to exhaustion but he can't begin to comprehend the amount Lance must've done to get like this. It makes his heart hurt and he can't figure out why.

At some point on the way to Lance's room, the tanned boy wakes, shifting slightly in Keith's grasp.

"Hey there sharpshooter," Keith murmurs, lips curling slightly into a smile.

"Ke-eith?" Lance's voice is weak but it's better than the trembling gasps Keith had to listen to just minutes earlier.

"Yeah, it's me. I'm here, you're okay, you're alright. You've got a fever but we'll fix it, okay?" Keith isn't sure if he's actually explaining this to Lance or trying to reassure himself but either way it doesn't matter.

Lance blinks up at him and his lips quiver as he tries to arrange his thoughts into something other than a hazy jumbled mess. He doesn't have much luck, instead just letting his foggy head tip to the side so that it's resting against Keith's shoulder.

"Hurts," he manages to whisper out, voice sounding slurred and slow. "S-sorry Keith."

"What are you sorry for?" Keith is confused, his eyebrows furrowed.

He receives a half-hearted shrug in response. "I m-messed up."

"Shh, no you didn't, it's okay. You didn't mess anything up, Lance." They're nearly at Lance's room now and Keith feels the pit in his stomach close up a little, his steps increasing in speed slightly. "Stay with me now, okay?"

Lance whimpers again, the sound tearing at Keith's heart. "Dunno wha's... wha's happnin t'me..." he mumbles, sounding exhausted. "'m sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

The weight in his arms grows heavier again and Keith glances down to seen Lance unconscious. He fumbles with the blue paladins door for a second before he manages to get it open, walking in to gently lay Lance down on his bed.

He brushes strands of hair away from the other boys forehead, wincing at the heat against his hand. He needs to find Shiro but if the black paladin is asleep...

Keith shakes his head. He can help Lance himself, Shiro hasn't been sleeping properly for a while now and he doesn't want to rob him of the little amount he can get.

Yeah, Keith can do this.

He grabs a cloth from Lance's bathroom, wetting it before laying it across the boy's forehead, and settles into a chair he pulled up by Lance's bed. He absentmindedly runs his hand through Lance's hair while he waits for him to wake again.

///

When Lance comes back to himself he feels just as bad.

No, wait a minute, that's wrong.

He definitely feels worse somehow.

He groans against the feeling of waking up, not ready to be conscious yet. Unfortunately for him, the universe still hates him, and he's dragged into awareness.

"Lance?" A voice calls, soft and warm and immediately putting the tanned boy at ease.

He blinks his eyes open, everything blurry for a second before coming into focus. His gaze shifts to beside his bed where he can see Keith, eyes concerned.

"Keith?" Lance croaks out, feeling as though there's sawdust lodged in his throat.

Keith has a small smile on his face and Lance is distracted for a second, staring at his lips. "How are you feeling?"

His nose wrinkles involuntarily at the question and Keith lets out a soft laugh, the sound filling the room. Lance thinks it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard and feels his cheeks warming. Hopefully he can pass it off as a side effect of the fever he has.

"Scoot over."

"What?" Lance blinks at the question and Keith rolls his eyes.

"Scoot over," he says again.

Lance huffs but moves over so that Keith can lie down in his bed with him, his cheeks warming slightly. He plays it off though, getting comfy with his head on Keith's chest (not that he has much of a choice, the beds in the castle aren't really big enough for two people to lie in at once).

He startles a little as fingers begin to card through his hair but relaxes quickly. Lance can't quite tell if Keith knows what he's doing - he glances up to get a look at his face but Keith is staring at the ceiling and it's impossible to get a read on him at this angle - but he doesn't say anything out of fear the red paladin will stop if he calls attention to it.

They stay like that for a while in silence. It's nice, comforting, and Lance doesn't want it to end.

"You're to hard on yourself," Keith says quietly, breaking the calmness that had fallen over the room.

Lance lets out a breath, mumbling "I know." He's not sure why he's admitting it, but something about the way Keith is treating him right now - soft and caring and so violently _not Keith_ in the way he's used to - is getting to him.

"We can work on this okay? It's not weak to get help."

Oh, great. Lance is going to cry if this conversation carries on. He doesn't say anything, violently blinking against the tears pooling in his eyes. Keith understands though, still carding through the brunet's hair.

Lance knows this won't magically fix him, knows that he won't feel 100% better in the morning. It will take time and effort before he's okay again. But Keith is willing to help him.

And that's all he can ask for, really.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading and please make sure to take care of yourself! <3
> 
> (on an unrelated note, i'm pretty sure i've ended at least two fics in basically the same way now so i'm sorry? honestly i had no idea where this was going for the most part)


End file.
